


The Great Lamented God

by enemy_xands



Category: Hannibal (TV), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Crossover, Gen, Horror, Implied Cannibalism, Kink Meme, Science Gone Horribly Right, don't look at me like that, noir
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:42:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enemy_xands/pseuds/enemy_xands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing's worse than a murderer with ambition. The BAU are tracking a madman "splicing" Pokemon together bent on creating the ultimate race--to extinguish humanity. Things get even more complicated when some old friends jump in. Who is this freak, and can he be stopped before he pulls off his coup de grace?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cherubim

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal Kink Meme (http://hannibalkink.dreamwidth.org) prompt fill. I basically fucking had to, don't you understand? First Hannibal fic so we'll see how it goes. Posted here for posterity & on the meme journal.

Will Graham shot up in a cold sweat, disoriented and confused. Vertigo settled in and he grabbed a hold of the bed post in his spinning room.

 

No, not spinning. He knew it wasn't really spinning, but...

 

His eyes felt so dry and grainy. He couldn't close them, or else the images of blood, fur, and flesh crudely stitched and tied together would dart behind his eyelids. They would grant him no sleep tonight, maybe ever again.

 

He'd seen brutality before. Naturally, it was part of his job—a “specialist”, focusing on the most heinous Pokemon and human crimes. He didn't have a preference for either, and no feather tipped the scale towards one being more terrible than the other. But this... this defied sense...

 

 _But don't they all_? A voice nagged in the back of his head. _Getting a weak stomach now?_

 

His guts felt upset, it was true. But damned if he was going to give in, he'd swallow his own vomit or just puke in his bed if he had to.

 

The vest he kept his Pokeballs attached to hung from the other side of his bed. He snatched one instinctively, one with a faded black and yellow top with a couple of scratched stickers. He grinned, then frowned.

 

This one had almost gotten to him, this morning. Right after coffee and tea. Jack showed him cutaway in the grass and ushered the rest of the team out. His giant Nidoking stood uneasily beside him.

 

Jack had gestured. “Picknicker found it early this morning. Just like the last one, if a little more crude. Hasty.”

 

“He got interrupted,” Will muttered, almost inaudibly. “Maybe by wildlife, maybe by the picknicker, but... he wasn't done. Still alive?”

 

Jack hesitated, then nodded. “While he worked, most likely.”

 

Today's entree was the remains of a juvenile Hypno, sutured to the remains of what appeared to be a Dusknoir. The corpse was flipped over on its back, revealing the stolen eyes of a Metagross that wasn't near the scene. The glazed over, otherworldly red eyes stared at him and the sky all at once, revealing no secrets.

 

“ALL WRONG” was scratched into the poor creature's stomach. ALL WRONG, like red ink on a rough draft. ALL WRONG; then what was all right?

 

Will closed his eyes, and Jack signaled for his Nidoking to fall back. They disappeared from the edge of his vision. Where was he? The Hypno was crawling away from him, exuding raw Psychic energy. It was being blocked by something monstrous, either another Pokemon or Dark energy siphoned from one. The Hypno couldn't get a barrier up, but Will wanted to take him alive.

 

He hacked the Pokemon's arm off right at the shoulder and quickly cloaked it. He set to his work while the Pokemon wheezed and gasped in agony, its final breaths.

 

“Shh, shh,” Will hushed. “It'll be alright. This is all for the best, you understand, don't you?”

 

The Hypno simply shook its head. In recent years, it has been argued by academics that Hypno were better mind readers than Alakazam or Espeon—but Will had grown up in Kanto surrounded by the stories of the Hypno's and Drowzee's unchecked Dream Eating habits. Country bumpkins they said, Hypno can't even naturally learn Hypnosis, the books said. But Will knows better, and he can draw out the potential of a maxed out god like Hypno, starting with this one right here...

 

But he started. When he looked down at his work, he was out of his reverie. A mess, a bloody, gouged mess.

 

“Won't do,” Will sneered. “This won't do at all. Not good enough.”

 

He scratched into the creature's skin. “All... wrong. ALL... WRONG.”

 

Will snapped back and called out to Jack. “He's getting better,” he said. “He's taking his failures as learning experiences. Experimenting, finding out what works and what doesn't.”

 

Jack peered down at the body. His lips moved but Will didn't understand him. All he saw was light, and all he heard was fuzz.

 

Will snapped his eyes open again. His bed was cold and wet underneath him and he was dizzy again, but when he looked around this time, he realized he was outside. He wavered in the breeze, still clutching his beloved Hypno. His hands shook, his finger trembled around the release button. Couldn't he use Dream Eater just this once? Dark Pulse, the legendary Nightmare, Hypnosis, anything to make it all stop. He didn't fear her power, only that she would stop or sicken herself from his long, long nightmare.

 

The sun was a sliver on the horizon. He finally loosened his grip on his Poke ball and took it back inside. Time to work.


	2. Seraphim

Will clicked over to the next slide. Presentations always made his hands clammy and slick, made his blood feel cold.   
  
"This week, a Hypno, a shroud, and the skull of a Dusknoir. It's unlikely he was attempting to force an evolution of the Dusknoir, but rather boost his creation's power."   
  
Click.   
  
"There were Spell Tags and fibers from a Choice Scarf at the scene. He was anticipating high special attack."   
  
Click.   
  
"We know he takes a holistic, natural approach. No vitamins. He's above all that. Just... Frankenstein work."   
  
Click. Click. The end. Applause... or not.   
  
He saw Alana out the corner of his eye. All the cold in his system drained away, and he was drawn to her warmth. She gave him an aloof little smile.   
  
He was quickly intercepted by Jack.   
  
"There you are," he said with a knowing drag. "You've got a meeting with a professor."  
  
A question mark may as well have floated over his head.   
  
"With who?"   
  
Alana stepped up behind him. "Juniper is on this?"   
  
"Not quite." Jack diverted his eyes to Will. "Oak. Says this case reminds him of something similar years ago in Kanto. Care to fill us in, Will?"   
  
Will blinked, a little stunned. First of all, his childhood hero wants to speak with him (well, to his team). Second...   
  
"That... that must have been when I was in Johto." Will swallowed nervously. "Or out training. These regions are so disconnected, you know."   
  
Alana and Jack looked at Will skeptically, but Jack said quickly, "Well, I suppose the good professor will tell us."   
  
Jack turned swiftly. The three Great balls at his waist jangled and clacked. "Tomorrow morning, eight," he said. Then, "Get some sleep."   
  
Will touched at the bags he knew were under his eyes. "Easier said than done," he muttered.   
  
"Sounds like you need some Sweet Dreams," Alana countered.  
  
Yeah, well, maybe you can loan me that spare Cresselia you've git lying around."   
  
Alana cut him another ghostly smile. "Since we're so close, why don't you try the Abundant Shrine?"   
  
Will scratched his neck. "What'll that do?"   
  
"It's a peaceful place. And I hear there are benign spirits at night."  
  
"You don't believe that, do you?"   
  
Alana laughed. "If I said yes, would you go?"   
  
_Probably_ , Will thought, but instead he just shrugged.  
  
~~  
  
The shadows swung across the man's face like a pendulum when he jerked on the table lamp's chain. Will startled in the doorway.   
  
"Jesus," he hissed. He should be used to that by now, but...   
  
"I hardly think so," Dr. Lecter muttered with no trace of humor. He was scribbling notes on his pad. He rose and stalked around the table, keeping his eagle eyes trained on his patient.  
  
"I woke up outside last night," Will blurted and collapsed in a chair. "Pokeball in my hand. I had a dream... no, a vision. I..." Hannibal leaned contrapposto against the edge of the table, arms crossed.   
  
"A reflex?" he asked. "From your old training days? Waking up in the middle if the night, not knowing what's going on, trusting only your Kadabra?"   
  
Will laughed a little at the memory. "Oh, god, no. I--"   
  
"You had a dream about the Splicer case."   
  
Will's mood quickly fell. "Oh."   
  
"Oh?"   
  
"I woke up at first." Will closed his eyes as if he were dreaming again. "The first dream... I imagined that thing was alive, making these tortured screams. And then..." his eyes opened. "I was awake... but I couldn't stop reliving the moment over and over again..."  
  
His voice trailed off to a faint whisper. A private conversation. Hannibal let him feel his way back.  
  
"I'm... not worried. A little uneasy..."  
  
"Afraid," Hannibal intercepted. "That's understandable. You have a Hypno yourself, and your team has a very high collective special attack. You're on edge."  
  
"I rely on my team to protect me but I don't know if I can protect them. There's time's when --" Will's face suddenly looked agonized, and he quickly retreated -- "When I was younger" -- flowed -- "Before Hoenn, we" -- ebbed.  
  
Hannibal watched him carefully. Will was not immune to the doctor's piercing glare, and averted his eyes.   
  
"Alana told me about the Abundant Shrine near Black City," Will whispered. "She said I should go because it's peaceful."  
  
"The shrine..." Hannibal muttered. "Are you very spiritual?"   
  
"Not really." Will rubbed his face. "She said it might help me sleep."  
  
Hannibal grinned a little. "Interesting how we're surrounded by Ghosts all the time, but still have the luxury of disbelief. Some of them are just Pokemon in disguise. What do you suppose happens to people after death?"  
  
Will shrugged, fingered his Gengar's Great ball case. "I don't know. Maybe nothing."

~~~

Truthfully, Will was terribly afraid of Ghosts. He didn't use his Ghastly for their first year together for just that reason. He'd heard tales all his life about the hauntings of Lavender Town and Saffron City, of Ninetails that would curse your family for a thousand years.   
  
Of course, he had made peace with his demons in his adult life, mostly. As he drove through the back roads of the forest behind Black City, he wondered about the Shrine. In fact, he'd never seen it except on a map. Even after five years Unova's geography still confounded him.  
  
There was a dirt road that connected the area to the city, or isolate it. Will parked and walked the rest of the way. He pushed past the gate and went inside.  
  
Kanto's spirituality was all mystery and fear, but this place was more serene, more gentle, benevolent just like Unova. The grass and gardens were well-kept, and there was an impressive shrine in the back. He waded in the cool, dark grass at his own pace, breathing in the crisp air.  
  
The breeze swirled the grass. He heard a soft chime behind him and turned around.   
  
"Cho?"  
  
Will's eyes widened a little and he kind of wished he still had his old Pokedex. He couldn't remember much about Chimecho except they exuded weak Psychic energy and couldn't be hit by Ground attacks.  
  
It floated near him. "Chime?" it trilled.  
  
Will smiled at it and headed back to the car. The fresh air and scenery had done him some good. He unlocked his door and slid in.   
  
"Chime?"  
  
Will jumped; the Chimecho floated outside his window, tapping its tassel against the glass. Will had released most of his unused team ages ago, once he'd stepped down from the Elite Four. He had no need for anything else. But this glowing orb was so persistent, and its soothing chime and psychic waves washed over him like a healing bell.  
  
He opened the door and let it in.  
  
"Stay down," he said, and adjusted his rear view mirror.


	3. Hashmallim

Conventional wisdom says Pokemon can only perform in even numbers. Primes. Limitations, even the great legends of our times. You can be overpowered, out sped, overcome. But if he could rise above his limitations, why couldn't they?  
  
Lesser trainers used potions and such, but his new race wouldn't need such man-made drugs. They sprung forth fully firmed from his brain, draped in robes of lights. Strange, curious creatures that induced awe and fear, and wonder.   
  
He was getting better. His innate craftsmanship was coming through, finally. The key wasn't quite to sew but to reconnect. Hurt them, and heal them. His favorite right now was a Metagross. It felt no pain, but showed terror whenever he passed by.  
  
It wasn't about winning or losing anymore, or being the best. He had lost so much. He tried to win with his favorites. But then he grew up and learned that strength was objective. He was disgusted with the people he had once respected, who pumped their beloveds with chemicals and dropped them on a whim. Humanity was weak, and Pokemon needed to rise against them.  
  
But, trainers know well how to exploit them. What good was a Dragon quadruple weak to ice? Or a Steel hurt by Dark? He started weak and made strong. The villainous teams of the past understood Pokemon superiority. But they were selfish, and made their masters angry.   
  
He had a new plan. In the cave, he had received the dark vision. His new race would spell the extinction of the unworthy humans. And he, too, would rise and fall -- the creator, soaring into the sky shrieking like an enraged Ho-oh, and falling like a great, lamented god.


	4. Ophanim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a small dialogue correction & some fix-ups umm director's cut I guess

Will woke up in his own bed for once, with a sleeping Chimecho tucked under his arm. He rustled the Pokemon's tassel and got out of bed to get dressed.  
  
He buttoned up his dress shirt nervously. Like all the children in Kanto, he had revered Professor Oak like a god. His starter was a particularly cranky Bulbasaur that became a crotchety Venasaur later on. Will had donated her for study when he revamped his team, unable to completely release her. Jack's beloved Typhlosion had died last year. Sometimes Will secretly wondered what Hannibal had received, wherever he was from.  
  
He released his current team from their balls and fed them. He never got tired of watching Hypno and Alakazam take their breakfast in the kitchen, newspapers and all, having a conversation in a language he didn't understand.  
  
"Kazaaam."  
  
"Hypnooo."  
  
Exeggcutor stood in the yard amongst the real trees. Its heads knocked against each other and argued. His Houndoom ravaged a bag of pokeblocks. Will decided to take along his Kingdra, Exeggcutor, and Alakazam for the day. He dragged the Psychic away from his tea and back into his case.  
  
"Take care of Chimecho, alright?" He looked at Gengar in particular. Gengar stuck his tongue out and laughed. Will decided to trust his team... maybe.  
  
On the way to the lab, Will felt equal parts nauseous and nostalgic. His affinity for Psychic types had kept him alienated from his peers in sleepy, coastal Cerulean. As he would learn later, it severely limited his post-trainer job opportunities, too. He moved around for a bit until, under some advice from Sabrina, he left for Hoenn. It was completely alien to him at first, and that was how he liked it. He moved his way up through the trainer ranks there, too, until he heard about an opening in the Elite Four.  
  
 _Why not_ , he'd thought at the time. He'd overcome his qualification rounds rather handily. But, he still needed his world to be chaotic, so he routinely made changes to any little thing he could. A Houndoom with Psychic. A surprise Gengar. A last resort Gyarados. He _became_ the Dream Eater.  
  
But that was just another facade. He was still searching for a purpose in life, cowering from himself in a small corner of his mind. Until he was contacted to help in a series of brutal slayings in Sinnoh. Team Galactic's work. He traveled there and helped profile the cult with his emphatic abilities. He refused to bring his team into it. They'd run across some still unresolved acts of cannibalism--ritual, Will figured, part of their ultimate goal for dominance. When they finally busted the cult he felt mentally exhausted, disgusted, and needed.  
  
He resigned from the League a few months later and moved to Unova.  
  
Will came to a hard stop, bumping up against the steering wheel. He swore at his flight of fancy and got out.  
  
Clearance never got any less tedious. The flurry of badges, ID, prints... he sighed through it all. Finally he was led into the frigid--weren't they all?--room with two Audinos, Beverly, Brian, and two strangers. One was an elderly man with grey hair, another a chestnut haired young man in a bomber jacket, holding a book.  
  
"Oh, both Professors Oak," Will said. "Nice to meet you both." Beverly clicked her tongue and made a soft growling noise behind Gary.  
  
Gary chose to ignore it. "At last, I meet the Great Wall."  
  
Will snorted and Brian raised his eyebrows.  
  
"A wall, huh?" he asked, arms crossed. "Thick-headed?"  
  
Gary laughed over Will's discomfort. "I wouldn't know about that, but man he was a beast--"  
  
"Let's not waste the Professors' time," Will quickly interjected. Right on time, Jack came in to save him. Jack had his Crobat perched on his shoulder.  
  
"We're all here? Good. Professor, I understand you have a theory for us."  
  
Professor Oak grabbed the book his grandson held and spread it on the table.  
  
"I was allowed to examine the evidence of the past two crimes," he said. "We made diagrams. Will, as a Kanto boy, do you remember the Mewtwo incident?"  
  
Will swallowed hard. "That abomination of science? Yeah."  
  
"Indeed. We are thinking whoever your killer is, is running an experiment similar to that. The purpose of Mewtwo was to create the ultimate artificial Pokemon--"  
  
"But our guy is more organic," Beverly interjected. "He's hands-on."  
  
"Correct, but the similarities are there. I would predict that he's from that part of the world, and has been traveling a long time. That wasn't the first nor the last incident of genetics gone wrong. We've seen designer breeds, fluctuating DNA in Unova... it's a fertile breeding ground for him. It might have even enraged him."  
  
The room went silent, unease settling like fog.  
  
"You think it's someone from Kanto," Jack concluded.  
  
"Someone very specific," Gary said. "The former champion..."  
  
"Ask Ketchum," Prof Oak said mournfully.

"He's been off the radar for years," Gary interjected, "but he abruptly stepped down from his post and always talked about how pissed he was about this new breed of trainers. Who knows what he's capable of..."  
  
Prof Oak picked up, "He was particularly scarred by his Mewtwo encounter... rumor is he caught it himself, and butchered it."  
  
Everyone winced a little.  
  
"Thank you for your time, professor," Jack said. "We'll be in touch."  
  
The professors took their leave. The remaining team congregated around the table.  
  
"The former champion of Kanto loses it and tries to play god." Jack ran his tongue across his lips. "Sounds a bit gauche."  
  
"I agree," Will muttered. "But it's the only real lead we have so far. He does, at least superficially, fit the bill."  
  
Jack removed an Ultra ball off his belt, the one Will knew contained Electivire. Jack grinned at Will without quite looking at him.  
  
"Well, let's find him and take him off the list. For my peace of mind, hmm?"


	5. Malakim

Dr. Lecter hovered over a box of business cards, most of them with long faded names. He'd be rid of them by the evening. Old names, old masters, fresh entrées. So many of them had made delicious meals, but some... bitter.  
  
He remembered those halcyon days of Team Galactic. They had taken him in when they thought he was weak, but even when he was strong enough to go he never left. It was the sense of... oh. Community.  
  
He wanted to sneer at the thought; there was hardly any brotherhood between prey and predators. Those at the top understood. So many of the grunts were clueless to their fate, never wondered about the high turnover rate. Never glimpsed the glorious ceremonies to the gods of time and space, and if they did, it was because they were the night's sacrifice. Yes, he took comfort in the ceremony and endless betrayals, always wondering when he would be next on the list. His reward for being the most desperate to survive was a rare gift...  
  
A cult, he knew that now. He'd gotten... help. He'd staggered out of the machine unseen, hid away to reinvent himself. But he still liked to maintain the old ways. If he were feeling honest, he'd admit he was still obsessed with the hierarchy. There were still uncouth persons—smallest—to absorb, and so few had escaped him.  
  
"I'm expecting a patient at 3," he told the almost stereotypically blond woman at the desk. "Just send him in."  
  
She nodded silently.  
  
In his chair, Hannibal's foggy thoughts turned to the current Splicer case. The culprit had a certain charm and flair in their naiveté, he thought. Not too far removed from his former superiors. But even the most intricate plan could be undone... He wondered how it would all fall apart.  
  
The door opened and a soft voice called him. "Dr Lecter?"  
  
The young man had sallow hair that jaundiced his pale complexion, and piercing blue eyes. He was frail and very slight, almost painfully shy in a way that reminded him of a slightly more damaged Will. In fact, being from Hoenn, Hannibal wondered if they knew each other. He smiled at the youth.  
  
"Hello, Wallace..."  
  
"Dr Lecter."  
  
Hannibal gestured with his head. "Have a seat."  
  
The man was a bit skittish, but he was getting better. A far cry from their first session. He carried two Poke balls at his waist, one a basic ball, and the other a Dusk ball. Wallace--Wally--talked about his Gardevoir often but never his second. Hannibal wondered.  
  
"Ah, that patch on your shirt is exquisite."  
  
On his pink polo, Wally had an elaborate blue and yellow embroidered patch. It resembled a Celtic knot and branched from his chest to his shoulder.  
  
Wally smiled. "Thanks. I did it myself! My grandma taught me a little crochet when I was young..."  
  
Hannibal nodded. "A fine job. How's Gardevoir?"  
~~~  
  
Last stop for the night. Will had returned to a mostly in tact house, and so felt confident enough to keep his usual appointment with Lecter. He drove through the streets of Black City, which always seemed to be covered in a thick miasma. He missed the old days when he could ride his Gyarados everywhere. Cars were so impersonal. But those days were long over. Now he rolled across the Tubeline and through the back streets of Nimbasa, looking for the office.   
  
It wasn't exactly hidden, but it was a rather nondescript building compared to the glitz and glamor of the rest of the city. He took the elevator up and let himself in.  
  
At the desk in the front sat his doctor, silently looking over... something. A box of cards?   
  
Lecter finally noticed him and regarded him silently. He jabbed a finger to the clock on his desk. Will blinked at it a few times before it dawned on him.  
  
“Oh! Yeah, I'm early. Well, I just figured...”  
  
“Who's in here?” Another Hannibal appeared in the office doorway. A Bisharp only a little shorter than him was at his side, bits of grass stuck to its blades. Will looked between the two Hannibals, feeling he might pass out from confusion. One Hannibal followed his line of vision and chuckled softly.  
  
“I had Zoroark watching the front today. Zoroark, change back.”   
  
The other-Hannibal's form wavered slightly and morphed into first a long-legged, blue eyed blond woman, and finally into its natural state. Hannibal held up his Premier ball and recalled it.  
  
“Return.”   
  
A beam of light dissolved the Pokemon and brought it back into its home. Hannibal reattached it to his waistcoat.  
  
“I was trimming my Grass-types,” he said, gesturing to his office. “I did not expect you so soon.”  
  
“Sorry,” Will muttered. “I thought I'd just come on ahead.”  
  
“It's not a problem. Come in, have a seat.”   
  
Will entered the office and made his way to the familiar, comfortable patient's chair. Behind him, a majestic Serperior stood erect, head just grazing the ceiling. Its nose was held high, its eyes giving Will a look of disdain. Next to it was a much shorter Shiftry with a case of overgrowth running down its back. Bisharp clanked in after Hannibal and returned to its work, carefully trimming with both its bladed hands and murmuring “bissh, bissh” as it worked.  
  
Will tore himself away from the scene as the doctor sat down.  
  
“I'm sure you know by now there's a lead in the Splicer case.” Will's hand quickly darted to his face to cover his mouth. “Ash Ketchum, former Champion of Kanto.”  
  
“Yes, I'd heard...” Hannibal eyed Will quietly, and for a few seconds the only sound between them was Bisharp in the background. “But.”  
  
Will's head shot up. “I don't buy it. Look, all I know about Ash is he was Kanto's reigning trainer for three years. Who knows what happened to him when he vanished, he may well be out of his damned mind. But he just doesn't fit the profile. Ash was never obsessed with strength—he was against it.”  
  
“You're looking for someone a little...” Hannibal bit his own words. “Obsessed with the hierarchy.”  
  
“Exactly.” Will got up and paced around a little; he enjoyed the comforting arms of the chair, but he wasn't used to it at all. “Someone obsessed with strength. Someone—someone determined to build up some vision of power from multiple weaknesses.” Will gave a self-deprecating little laugh. “Someone with a low opinion of themselves.”  
  
Hannibal rested his hand in his hand, eyes downcast. “Someone with a low opinion of humanity, I suppose.”  
  
Will perked up; Hannibal continued, “You're aware we've had a problem with fanatical groups.”  
  
“Yeah, but not this one.”  
  
“No, no he would hate such groups. He's not looking to use them for his own purpose... Ketchum still fits that profile.”  
  
“But only in a very convenient way, don't you think? It's... it's...” Will thought back to his conversation with Jack from earlier. “It's gauche.”  
  
Hannibal's lips twitched into a near-smile. “Gauche.”  
  
“Gauche. I just can't subscribe to it. Ketchum was basically Pokemon Jesus, for better or for worse.”  
  
Hannibal raised his eyes and leaned forward in his chair. As he rose: “Then perhaps our savior has fallen?”


	6. Hayyoth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooraaay everyone finally got to do something besides mope philosophically

Will felt a furry arm tugging his own. He stared into the greying light of day and realized, once again, he was in his pajamas outside on another frosty morning. He was too groggy to even sigh. A hint of paranoia pinched at the back of his neck. He looked behind him, but all he saw was Hypno attempting to drag him back to bed. How had she gotten out? Did he release her? He didn't remember. He didn't remember the drive home or going to bed.

 

“'Ypno?” she asked.

 

Will staggered back towards the house. “I'm—I'm okay. I think. I don't know.”

 

He knew she wasn't convinced, but she let it go. She pushed him back into the house just as his cell phone nearly rang off the table.

 

“Hypno!” she shouted. Using a bit of telekinesis, she picked it up from across the room and held it in the air. She shook her head angrily and pointed towards his bedroom. Will remembered that “affinity for psychic-types” didn't mean “actually psychic” and growled.

 

“Quit it,” he demanded, reaching for the phone while she played keep-away. “I have to answer it!”

 

“Hypno!”

 

“Stop it!”

 

Will reached over and grabbed Hypno's wrist, breaking her concentration. The phone dropped and stopped ringing. Hypno wrenched her hand out of Will's grasp. He looked down at his own hands in horror, saw then drenched in blood and clumps of yellow fur.

 

“Oh, god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

 

Hypno simply grumbled and walked off.

 

“Hey...”

 

Will reached his hand out pleadingly, but then his phone rang again. Hypno stopped, and Will looked between her and the phone once, twice, then answered.

 

“Rise and shine,” Jack said before Will could even breathe a word. “Our mad genius has struck again.”

 

“Shit,” Will hissed. “Where?”

 

He watched his Hypno retreat into his bedroom, barely listening to Jack's instructions. He nodded and hummed, and hung up, not even sure if their conversation was completely finished. He went into his room under the pretense of getting dressed and found Hypno sitting on the bed, her head in her hands.

 

“I'm sorry about earlier... really.” When she didn't answer him, he lowered his head. He stuffed his legs into a pair of jeans and found a shirt. “Do you want to stay home?”

 

Hypno looked like she was thinking for a minute, then shook her head. She hopped off the bed, grabbed her own case, and tossed it to Will. He called her back, then went to his drawer which held a large box with several seals on it. He opened it and attached his team to his belt. His hand lingered over his Gyarados.

 

The latest case was in Nacrene, which was pretty tough to get through on land from Black City. He let his hand hover a little longer.

 

“Why not,” he said to himself.

 

~~~

The salty ocean water rushed across Will's bare feet as he allowed himself to dangle from Gyarados's lower body. The great water dragon cut through the water, frightening a few tourists and disturbing schools of Basculin and Frillish along the way. He'd missed this so much; ever since he'd (accidentally) caught his first Magikarp with his toe, the fishing trips with dad in Cerulean Cave on the weekends, the soggy abyss that was most of Hoenn. The power and grace of the Gyarados made his belly flip, made his head feel light. He climbed closer to the top—never the head—as they neared the shore. They'd be a little outside the city, not quite near the forest. The Gyarados jutted out of the water like a periscope as Will descended onto the ground. The police around the scene muttered to themselves and Will suddenly felt very self-conscious for his grand entrance. He recalled the Pokemon and headed for Jack.

 

Jack was standing near some crime scene photographers and the Frankenstein body. Gym Leader Lenora and her husband were nearby, talking to some investigators. Today's piece was a well-constructed Metagross corpse with the eyes gouged out, replaced by what looked to be Luxray eyes. Its steel arms had been replaced with Magnezone magnets. The creature had no legs, and Will assumed it was expected to float or fly with the shriveled, leathery Dragonite wings attached to its back. He swallowed hard.

 

“Lenora said it was still floating when she found it,” Jack said, cutting through Will's thoughts. “It was giving off a little electricity and psychic energy, but it must have used itself up by the time we got here.”

 

“So it's working,” Will said. “His only mistake this time was, he effectively cut out the Metagross's brains.”

 

Jack nodded. “Yes, its brains are in its legs effectively... another mistake?”

 

Will scratched his beard. “He might have missed a spot in his research, but I think he's just proving a point after his most recent project. Showing us how much better he is now.”

 

Jack rocked back on his heels. “Nacrene, Floccesy, Route 13... where is he going?” Jack ran a hand over his head. “It's not making any sense. He could be headed towards a major landmark, but which?”

 

“Dragonspiral Tower?” Will offered. “That seems to be a place with a lot of activity, and would explain the Dragonite wings. Or maybe he's just taking what's available.”

 

“We're looking at areas with heavy swarms, but it doesn't seem like he's using any of those. I predict he's being intentionally random to cover his tracks.” Jack gazed at Lenora, who appeared to be shaking now. Her husband's arms were wrapped around her.

 

“Is... everything okay at home?” Will asked so quietly and suddenly Jack wasn't even sure he heard it. His eyebrows furrowed and he stuffed his hands in his pocket.

 

“Yeah.” The words rushed out in a huff. “Yeah. She's handling the treatments well but I guess that doesn't matter, does it?” Before his eyes got much redder, Jack focused on Pinwheel Forest in the distance. “Well, this would be a great time to deflect the topic, wouldn't it? Are you gonna share what you're hiding or are you just going to keep eating it?”

 

Will winced as if he'd been physically attacked. “It's not getting in the way of my performance. That's all you care about, right?”

 

“I wouldn't be so sure about that.”

 

Will tried to escape Jack's presence by also turning his attention to the forest. He could see the wind rustling through the trees and a few silk strands stuck in the branches. The more he focused, the more he saw an odd patch of red. Not a Pokemon. Clothing. Some shadowed flesh and a flash of an eye. He's been caught. Will found himself dashing after the red and white blur before he even realized it, his uncoordinated feet carrying him to the paths in the dense forest and beyond. He could hear Jack and some police officers calling his name behind him, but they were small over the roar of wind in his ears. He caught a glimpse of worn jeans rounding a corner and jumping over a felled tree limb. Will removed a ball from his waist and hit the release mechanism.

 

“KAZAAM.”

 

The Alakazam sensed the urgency and ran ahead. Will spotted the log bridge that the perp was about to cross, and with his speed he'd be away from them if he did.

 

“Alakazam, Psyshock!”

 

Alakazam stopped and levitated, and a whir of psychic energy flew from his hands. The suspect dodged, but the true target blew up before his eyes. He skidded to a stop on the edge of the cliff; the fall was short, but steep, and even if he managed to make his way down unscathed he would lose precious time trying to cross the stream. He didn't even know where it led. So he stopped, hands limp at his sides.

 

Without even seeing his face, Will recognized him. All the pictures he'd ever seen of him were as a ten-year old boy. He would be a late teen about now, maybe even early twenties. His black hair still jutted out in odd spikes from the back and he wore a red jacket with jeans, but lacked his signature hat. And something else was missing, but Will couldn't put his finger on what.

 

“Don't move, Ketchum.”

 

Will turned around and saw Jack and another officer closing in. Jack's hulking monster Electivire was chugging along behind him, and they were both covered in a sheen of sweat. He quickly flashed his badge and said, “Jack Crawford, FBI. We just need to ask you a few questions.”

 

“I don't have time for this.” Ash's childish, throaty rasp had deepened and mellowed, and now carried a hostile edge. He slowly held his hands up, never turning to face the team. Finally, it dawned on Will what was wrong with this picture.

 

“Wait, where's your Pikachu?”

 

“You tell _me_ , you bastard.”

 

Ash finally whipped around to three Pokemon and a gun trained on him. His hands were still up, but there was a small Ultra ball attached to his wrist. He quickly hit the release mechanism and it expanded, and a beam of light shot out to release a gigantic Pokemon.

 

“Shit!” Will and Jack exclaimed in unison. The gust from the massive Dragonite's wings threatened to blow them all back like a helicopter at close range.

 

“Psyshock!”

 

“Ice Punch!”

 

“Hydro Pump!”

 

Despite its bulk, the Dragonite shot into the air with great force and speed. It was blown off balance by the officer's Hydro Pump, but it quickly reset its course for the west and took off with a bellow. Jack recalled his Electivire and drew out his Crobat.

 

“Follow him, but don't attack.”

 

The Crobat screeched and flew off Jack's arm, swiftly and wildly. Will recalled his Alakazam and wiped the nervous sweat off his face.

 

“If you ever run off like that again, I'll beat your ass myself if you don't get killed first.” He jabbed his finger in Will's face, then tempered it with a shoulder pat. “Good job.”

 

“Did you hear him, though?” Will tried to shrug off his conflicting feelings of shame and validation. “He said he was looking for his Pikachu. That Pikachu's as famous as he is, I severely doubt he'd be using it in some fucked up science experiments. I'm willing to bet it was kidnapped by our guy.”

 

“IF that is the case... IF,” Jack said, “then we still need to drag him in for questioning. Innocent people don't take off on goddamn dragons, do they?”

 

“He felt cornered.” Will licked his lips nervously. “Like we were going to take him in no matter what. Maybe he knew we already thought he was guilty, which is the exact opposite of what we're supposed to do.”

 

Jack frowned, but didn't say anything more. Will looked up at the streaks Crobat and Dragonite had left in the sky, like jagged claw marks.


	7. Bene Elohim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops this one got away from me a bit. The rest of Hannibal's team hooray. Also I swear Will's going to get to do something besides talk about his past and mope EVENTUALLY.

In his office, Will tapped his fingers on his desk impatiently.  
  
It had been several hours but Crobat hadn't returned. Jack had absorbed the most morbid of all Will's worries while they were in the lab.  
  
"I can't image it would have lasted more than a few hours," Beverly said.   
  
Jimmy stood next to her with a Jynx holding a clipboard. "We found a microchip in the Metagross, but the trainer number isn't turning up anyone in Unova."  
  
"Expand for all four regions," Jack said. He glanced at Will. "The missing Pikachu, too."  
  
"There are no Pikachus in Unova," Jimmy said. "But that one in particular is preeetty famous. And powerful, I understand."  
  
"Yeah, no doubt our guy's got it," Beverly said. She shuddered a little. "FYI, that Freddie creep is going nuts about it on her site. Calling the whole thing a government-Plasma cover up."  
  
"She would," was all Jack could mumble.   
  
Will stared into the eyes of the dead hybrid. A pure race of composites. This is why he was never here when they talked. If he looked hard enough he could see the last traces of REM.  
  
The tap of his fingers had become a drum. The victim's special stats had been maxed beyond what it was capable of. Why was special attack more important than regular?  
  
As typical as it was, Will imagined someone that had been bullied as a child. Probably for traits he couldn't control. He wanted to turn their brute strength against them. He probably owns a Psychic or Dark type.  
  
Will slapped his forehead.   
  
"I'm just gonna profile myself?" he yelled to no one.   
  
"That sounds healthy," said a soft, cool voice. "But isn't that Hannibal's job?"  
  
"A-Alana."  
  
Alana stepped into the room fully and shut the door behind her.  
  
“So you caught Ash...” she said.  
  
“And it just proved my theory that he's not the one.” Full of nervous energy, Will practically leaped up from his chair and paced in a beeline. “At this point, most likely a victim. He only ran because he's on a mission, clearly.”  
  
“Sounds like you know a lot about the kid.”  
  
“I don't know anything about him.” Will stopped and rested his hands on the desk, looking down. “I just understand his predicament. Just because he looks guilty, doesn't mean he is.”  
  
Alana nodded in agreement. “Yeah. But maybe he can lead us if we let him.”  
  
Will glanced at her briefly. “If Crobat makes it back, that is. Dude had a goddamn Dragonite for fuck's sake.”  
  
Alana found herself taken aback, not by Will's language but by his profound pessimism. “Will, what is wrong with you?”  
  
Will took a deep breath and let it out, rubbed his face from his beard to the ends of his hair. “I'm sorry. I just haven't been sleeping well, that's all...” He managed a smile that Alana found more off-putting than charming. Before she could get another word in, Will blurted, “I went to the Shrine. It helped.”  
  
“Oh?” Alana found herself a little more relieved. “Did you find something there?”  
  
“Yeah.” Will smiled a genuine smile this time, something Alana was wholly heartened to see. She allowed herself to relax now, sagging against the door.   
  
Will's cell phone ringing made both of them jump. Will pulled it out of his pocket with some effort and answered it.  
  
“Graham.”  
  
“Crobat's back,” Jack said, sounding just a trace smug. “We developed a path based on his flight pattern, and looks like our boy's heading to Castelia City. Probably on foot, or else we would have gotten a hundred reports of a Dragonite in the area by now.”  
  
“No sign of the missing Pikachu?”  
  
“No, not yet. Meet us at the end of Skyarrow Bridge.”  
  
Will hung up and sighed. Why did he get rid of all his Flying-types? He could try to swim again with Gyarados but that would mean he'd still have to run to the bridge on foot. And by that point he may as well just go into Castelia directly... but he didn't think Jack would appreciate it if he ran off again.  
  
He felt a heavy gaze on his nape; when he looked up at Alana, she was grinning with a Great ball in her hand.  
  
“Need a ride?” She tossed him the ball.   
  
“Please tell me your Azelf can teleport me in five seconds.”  
  
Alana rolled her eyes. “It's not—I never said—ugh. Just take it, you'll see.”  
  
Will looked from the ball to Alana again. “Aren't you coming?”  
  
“I'll... hitch a ride.” Will sensed her discomfort and realized what she meant. He nodded and thanked her, then left her alone in the harsh chiaroscuro of his office space.  
  
Outside the academy building, Will hit the release mechanism on the ball.   
  
And so he found himself cruising on the back of a giant Togekiss, swooping gently to Castelia.  
  
~~~  
  
The ride was as gentle and soft as Will imagined it would be. He counted up his team; four. He imagined they must be very tired from all the action. He'd have to hit up a PokeCenter before anything else happened. He wondered if Ash had had time to heal up too, or was he so obsessed with his mission to find his beloved Pikachu that he hadn't even rested himself, let alone his team? He was sure his team felt the same way. Will couldn't fault them at all.  
  
The Togekiss touched down on Skyarrow Bridge, and Will recalled him. Another accidental flashy entrance, but he was starting to get used to it again. It was part of his territory in Hoenn, after all. His old set up involved six floating mirrors—one would fall every time the trainer beat one of his Pokemon. It enhanced his mystique, but in reality served a dual purpose: it made the trainer feel accomplished even if they lost, and allowed him to watch their technique.   
  
His replacement was, somewhat ironically, a Dark-type trainer. The kid—Sidney—had come in all scraggly and scuffed from the streets, and a little doped out. Will made sure one thought at least penetrated his head that day:  
  
“Performance.”   
  
And wasn't he still performing, even now?   
  
Jack and an officer met him at the exit.   
  
“We've scouted the area, he was spotted outside the sewers. As you know, the sewers are vast and tricky, so...” Jack sucked his teeth. “We'll have to split up. I'll be sending you with Officer Nike. You have my permission not to run off and get killed.”   
  
“Aye, aye. He's probably heading for the park, specifically.”  
  
“Then you take a route there. I've got another team checking route 4, one in the desert, and another one in the rest of the sewer.”  
  
Will was suited up with a gun and bullet proof vest.   
  
“You don't honestly think he'd use weaponry, do you?” Will said, annoyed.  
  
“Protocol, sir,” Nike called off from the side. “Just protocol.”  
  
Will muttered under his breath.  
  
~~~  
  
The sewers were dark and dank, with humidity that settled in the lungs. Will didn't want to breathe it in, not even with a mask, but he had no choice. They were signaled to the path that led to Castelia Park, an oddly scenic little garden on top of these chilled, perspiring walls.   
  
There were Rattata and Raticate scurrying around over the corpses of their brethren and a few dropped Zubats. He could see purple, bubbling pools in the water, signaling the presence of Muk and Grimer. He swallowed and tried to focus; he hated Poison-types, always had. It took years for him to get used to Jack's team. Jack took particular offense to Will's disgust at his favorites: the Nidoking he had nursed from an egg back in his ruin-hunting days, and the Golbat that had surprised him with one more evolution back home in Johto. It wasn't them, really. Poison-types were just gross.  
  
Nike held a flashlight to better search the sewer. Will thought it was a bad idea, and thought it would be a lot easier to use Alakazam to suss out their prey, but hadn't argued it. He couldn't keep leaning on his Pokemon to take care of him forever. What would happen if they weren't there anymore?  
  
They turned another corner and bumped into some stairs.   
  
“Almost there,” Nike said. Will nodded, imperceptible in the dark. He had his partner's back, for better or for worse. They went up the stairs and were suddenly greeted with a breath of fresh air. Will greedily sucked it down and wiped off the sheen of grime on his face.   
  
“Not up here!”  
  
The officer seemed part surprised and partly dismayed, more than likely at the fact that they would have to travel back down into the sewers and continue their search. Will looked around the garden; the tightening of his face let him know that there were a few Cottonee hanging around, probably in the trees. But no Ash. He sighed. As he turned around, he heard the pitter-patter of shoes on concrete. He looked at Nike, and the two of them shot back down the stairs.  
  
“Must be fate,” Will muttered to himself. He wondered if Ash felt the same.   
  
“Sounds like they're going east,” Nike said, huffing along. “He'll run into Team C.”  
  
“Signal 'em,” Will said. His hands itched, not for the gun but for his Gengar.   
  
They were chasing an echo of noises. The suspect could have been running along the walls for all they knew. Will was willing to bet that the kid was lost. His pattern was too random, as if he knew danger was somewhere but couldn't pinpoint where. If they cornered him again, he'd fight this time. He couldn't wait.   
  
The noises abruptly halted. Finally, he realized he was getting nowhere. Nike waved his flashlight recklessly, trying to get a glimpse.  
  
“Over here.”  
  
The light rested on the suspect, illuminating his state of disarray. His clothes were dirty as was his face, his hair matted, his cheeks and eyes red. _Deteriorating_ , Will thought.   
  
Ash held his hands up, no tricks this time. “Please, what do you guys want?”  
  
“For you to stay right there,” Nike barked. Like Will, he now held a Pokeball in his hand. They heard Ash snickering.  
  
“Oh, a double-battle? And me with no partner.”   
  
“We know you're looking for Pikachu,” Will said. “Let us help you find him, maybe we can find him alive.”  
  
Ash's hands faltered over his waist. “You... you think...” Then his hands clenched around one in particular. “Fuck you. Unova is a pit—unnatural. There's nothing but madness here... do you even realize what you've done?”  
  
“Unova hasn't done anything, Ash! It's just one man. He's probably not even from here!”  
  
But Ash wasn't listening anymore, and Will wasn't sure he ever was. “Mutated Pokemon genes, unnatural combinations, unchecked greed... fools. You're all fools. You did this. You lured him here. This is your fault.”  
  
Will heard Nike release his Bronzong but the noise was fuzzy. Blood was rushing through his ears.  
  
“Ash, please,” he called over the roar, now accompanied by the sounds of Team C finally arriving. “I know what it's like, I'm from Kanto too. I know this place can look fucked up, but it's beautiful...”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“We need you to help us catch this psycho before he takes anyone else's Pokemon—”  
  
“ _I said shut up!_ ”  
  
“Do it for Pikachu—”  
  
Ash suddenly screeched. “DON'T YOU DARE!”

He ripped the Ultra ball from his belt and threw it. “Dragonite, use Outrage!”  
  
“Reflect!” Nike called. Will was still fumbling for his Gengar when the shield circled over them like a dome.   
  
The Dragonite took up all the space in the sewer. Its eyes glowed white and its great body trembled. It threw itself at the dome like a ragdoll being thrown across the floor by a petulant child, Will thought, and the shield shuddered with the force. Bronzong groaned at its master, who held its steel body as a comfort.  
  
“I know, I know,” he shushed. “Will, you got some anti-Dragon?”  
  
“Not a thing.” Will hit the release trigger on his ball and called out his Gengar. Gengar immediately stuck his tongue out, but at another blow from the enraged Dragonite, quickly changed its tune.  
  
“G-gengar?”  
  
“I can Shadow Ball it if we get some cover,” Will continued, “but we'd be wide open until it tired itself out."  
  
“Shoot, man. My Bronzong's not going to hold up much longer.”  
  
Will's mouth went dry. Strategy, strategy... what the hell was Team C doing? Having trouble containing the beast themselves. Who is really equipped to take down such a monster? They can't even find one guy running around with a surgeon's scalpel and a sewing kit.  
  
The shield faltered. Will and Nike braced themselves and readied their attacks.  
  
“Gengar, Sha—”  
  
“Hydreigon, Dragon Rush!”   
  
Will heard it over the din of the attacking Dragonite, but there was no mistaking that absurdly calm, monotone voice. His eyes widened as he saw the three-headed dragon tackle the Dragonite, turn around, then take it down with a swing of its heavy tail. The Dragonite went down, but didn't stay there. Will found himself being dragged back by Nike, through the slimy water and across a bridge, away from the fight. Team C had managed to apprehend Ash, who was still shouting battle commands.   
  
“Body Slam!”  
  
They were trying to clamp their hands around his mouth. The Dragonite was visibly tired and now injured, but its eyes still glowed with rage. As it got up, Hannibal switched his Ultra ball for a Net ball.  
  
“Sharpedo, Ice Beam.”  
  
The shark landed in the sewer water and immediately froze it, before unleashing a piercing beam of ice that hit the Dragonite in the gut. The Pokemon finally went down, with a cry of anguish that matched its trainer's rage.  
  
Someone grabbed the Ultra ball and recalled the Pokemon. A good chunk of the sewer was missing, and starting to flood. They moved up to higher ground near the exit, and Will finally noticed Alana in the scuffle.  
  
“Got a ride?” he called back to her. Her lip twitched but she refused to smile. Hannibal, however, didn't miss the humor.  
  
“Was very pleased that she chose to come to me, even if it was a bit out of her way.” Hannibal nodded towards the still-struggling Ash. “Your captive?”   
  
“More like I was his.”  
  
As Nike passed on the way to Team C and B, Will patted him on the back. The man looked surprised and Will felt a little awkward, just now realizing the man was probably about a decade older than him.  
  
“Good j—no, thank you. You saved my ass.”  
  
“Protocol, sir.”   
  
Will smiled. The commotion was settling down, and Will assumed that Ash had either been sedated, or had finally lost his fire. It hurt Will to see him dragged along, sagging, lifeless, nearly in tears from frustration.  
  
Alana noticed Hannibal's nose in the air in a way that reminded her of a hound dog. She almost expected his ears to prick up.  
  
“What is it?” she whispered.  
  
“I smell... blood,” he said. “Coming from back there, I think.”  
  
“Think it's from the fight?”  
  
Hannibal aimed his head for the shadows behind Alana. “I don't... think so...”  
  
There was a soft murmur, and a scratching noise. He could just barely hear it, but doubted anyone else did. The scratching grew louder and closer, turning into a dragging sound. Will finally noticed it, too, and turned his attention to it.   
  
“Just a Raticate?” he said.   
  
“No, no it's...”  
  
There was a long wail.  
  
“ _Piiikaaa..._ ”  
  
Ash suddenly jerked up. He glanced between Will, Hannibal, and the shadows from which the noise emerged. There was a gleam of hope in his eyes, and he suddenly looked like the ten-year old champion again.  
  
“It's him!” he called out. “Pikachu! I'm over here!”   
  
“ _Pii... kaaa..._ ”  
  
The dragging noise grew louder and louder, until something finally emerged. Two or three officers trained their flashlights on the sight.   
  
The light in Ash's eyes died.   
  
A great pair of Charizard wings grazed against the damaged walls of the sewers and jutted up toward the ceiling. Attached below was the almost-comically small by comparison Pikachu, its fur matted and bloodied. Its cheeks sparked electricity that glowed faintly against the walls. There was one eye of its own and the other had been replaced by something unidentifiable. Its legs and arms had been replaced by a Rapidash's, a foal judging by the size. Finally, purely for aesthetics, an elaborate Rhyhorn's horn was perched atop its head. It dragged itself pitifully toward its trainer with legs it couldn't work, searching with eyes that couldn't quite see anymore.   
  
There was some commotion behind him, and Will whipped around in time to see Ash holding a gun. By the way he held it, Will could tell he'd never so much as touched a weapon before now. He quickly moved Alana out of the way and Hannibal dodged back as the man shot once, twice, three times before finally hitting his target.  
  
The dragging stopped. Pikachu's cheeks let out a final burst of electricity and it flopped in pain before finally sagging into its own wings.  
  
There was a long silence, punctuated by the sound of Ash dropping to the ground and heaving.   
  
The agonized scream he let out would haunt Will all his days.


	8. Er'el

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh sorry everyone work's been kicking my ass so I readily admit this chapter's not THAT great. But we're winding down towards the end and the climax will be fab promise!

Broken. If you've never seen it or been there, you didn't really understand it, Will thought.

A cup that's broken. A fridge. A relationship. Those are all easy. But _broken_. Such an ugly word. An ugly feeling. A lot of people wouldn't recognize it if it hit them in the face. When Will looked at Ash in the interrogation room, all he could think was “broken”. Someone shredded inside out, physically, emotionally, spiritually. A completely lifeless void. Why were they questioning him? They weren't going to get a blessed word out of him. He hadn't even looked up from the table in two hours.

Ash stared at the wooden table in the little room, his eyes blank and dark. He had stopped crying—he was hysterical when they'd brought him in—with the help of some sort of sedative and a little water, but after that he'd gone completely silent. There were a few mutters here and there, and some delayed hiccups, but no discernible words. Right now he had a little trail of drool seeping out of his mouth and pooling on the table. Checked out. AWOL. _Gone_.

“Acute stress disorder,” Hannibal said from behind him. He stood stately with his hands in his pockets, his Pokemon Friday Bisharp at his side. “He's in complete shock. We will not be hearing much from him tonight. He needs medical attention.” He sighed through his nose. 

“He's still seeing his Pikachu.”

“Are you?” 

Will glanced over at Hannibal but didn't say anything. He looked through the glass as Jack personally came in, and sat across from the trainer, eying him. Not exactly for the first time, Will hated the man. He'd overridden the decision to take Ash to the hospital in the first place in a way he was pretty sure was illegal if not also unjust. Hoping he'd talk. Will hoped he was pleased with himself. 

He wasn't entirely sure why Hannibal was here either, other than his expertise. He'd been taking an increasing interest in this case, descending from his Mount Olympus in Nimbasa several times for some hands-on investigation. It wasn't the first time Will had seen the doctor on the field, but something about his presence now bothered him. Irritated him, even. Like he was hiding something deep in a secret breast pocket in his coat. 

Why were _any_ of them here? This was such a personal moment, private grief and suffering. It was fucking absurd. 

Lecter's face was unreadable as ever. He stared straight ahead with an Old World detachment, and for all Will knew he was taking a silent amusement in the spectacle before them. 

Jack got up after a few minutes and left to talk to a detective outside. He came back in and gave the signal to move Ash out. Will tensed up even though he felt relief—he didn't want the screams to start again. Never, ever the screams again. He couldn't get them out of his head as it is.

He hadn't been there for the other victims they were able to identify. He pitied those poor souls who had to tell unwitting Pokemon owners that their missing loved ones had not only been murdered, but were some intricate part of a lunatic's plot. And had they caught him yet? No. No one was safe. 

The Men In White had come in to take Ash, finally, when he stirred a little. They moved away from him, and Will and Hannibal realized he was beginning to talk. Jack had leaned in to hear him better.

“What's that, son?” 

“... Crobat.”

Jack startled a little, and pulled back. “Crobat?”

“You have a Crobat,” Ash's pain-hoarse voice was monotone. “I saw it when it was following me and Dragonite.” 

“That's correct, I do have a Crobat.”

“And you know how Crobats evolve from Golbats, don't you?”

Jack sighed. “Friendship.”

“That's how I knew you weren't bad people.” Ash looked up, his face suddenly boyish again, almost painfully so. “I know you just want to help.”

“Remarkable,” Hannibal muttered. He raised a hand to his chin. “He snapped out of it, just like that. You only see that kind of thing in movies, I suppose.” 

Jack signaled for the MIW to back up and let Ash keep talking.

“That's right. We wanted to help you get...” He cleared his throat. “I'm going to have to ask you about Pikachu.”

Ash nodded. 

“Can you tell me about when he went missing?” 

“You ever wonder what happens when trainers transition to real life?”

Ash's voice had changed so suddenly that Will had a hard time believing it was his own. It had deepened somehow, in just an instant. Logically, Will knew he could just be compensating for the fact that his vocal cords must be severely strained by now, like if he'd had a head cold; but he just sounded _possessed_.

Jack blinked as if the change had surprised him, too. “Well, ah... when I was younger, yes. I didn't really know what career opportunities there were out there.”

“Where are you from?”

“Slateport.” 

“How'd you get to Unova?”

Jack sat down again. “I was a ruin hunter,” he said with a hint of shame. “So I used the items I collected to finance myself through school in Jubilife.”

“And here you are.”

“And here I am. What about you, Ketchum?”

“There's nowhere to go but down from being champion.” Ash's voice flipped back to its usual rasp, with an edge of bitterness.“Tons o' kids a month challenging me, just to get a piece of fame. Even if they lost. I could have retired at nineteen.” The timbre changed to a dark monotone again. “While I was traveling we were so happy... until it all started rushing in on me.”

“What rushed in?”

“Life. First, all the fighting just got too much and I got sick while I was in Johto. I decided to go home for a bit, but when I got back... wrong. All wrong.”

Will jolted behind the double-sided glass, leaned up against it. He didn't notice Hannibal watching his reactions intently. 

“Everything smelled of... of old and decay. People didn't look at me the same anymore. They looked... scared. Disgusted, all of 'em. I talked to Oak, and he told me I was imagining things. He said people loved and respected me, kids looked up to me... I didn't believe him... I came back home to get better, but it just made me sicker.”

Jack folded his hands under his chin. “Ash, tell me about Mewtwo.”

Ash's head snapped up and he became vicious. “What about him?”

“There's a story that it mysteriously vanished, and it was your fault.”

“Me? I'd never go near that thing, ever again. I don't even know where to find it. I left Kanto for good, I came to Unova to get a new start. And as soon as I got here, my Pikachu got snatched by that little freak thing in the green cap.” A short burst of laughter, then he sucked his teeth. “Something's never change. Or maybe they do. I didn't save him this time.” 

Ash got choked up, then really started choking. Jack signaled for him to be taken away, and it was finally over. He threw a single, brief glance in Will's direction, a look that Will knew meant the man was expecting a full run-down immediately.

“Disassociating, perhaps?” Hannibal said, cutting through Will's haze. “Do you ever experience this feeling when you return home, Will? Do you go home?”

Will tacitly side-stepped him. “He said it. He said it, just like it was on the Hypno's stomach.” 

“But we've already established that he's not our killer.”

“Yeah... yeah, I know. He doesn't fit the profile at all, especially now. But if he's disassociating... maybe he doesn't.” 

Hannibal blinked, a little surprised. “That's...”

The door swung open and Jack entered. “What, Lecter?” 

“Will is suggesting perhaps Ketchum has disassociative identity disorder.” 

Jack frowned and scratched the back of his head. “Hmm, I doubt it.”

“You saw his performance down there,” Will said.

“Yeah, it was... creepy. He's probably disassociating quite a bit, but more out of shock.” 

“What do you make of his story about Kanto?” Hannibal asked, training his eyes on Will. 

“Not sure. Sounds like he may have had a nervous breakdown, which would distort his perception of the situation. But don't we all feel a little strange when we return home after a long absence?” 

Will found himself rubbing his arm. “Yeah...”

After a long silence, Jack commented, “You don't tell us that much about home, Will. I think we could use the background.” 

Will heaved the sigh of a man about to tell a lumbering story. “Kanto can be sick at times. It's not really much different from anywhere else except the landscape, it's just the people. The culture. You know, small-town places. Everyone knows everyone and their business to a degree... we all want to leave at some point. And when you go out and experience the world, you come back, and it's all so backwards and primitive.” He cleared his throat. “I can understand why he'd be so upset returning home.”

“Very Fisher King,” Hannibal said and hummed.

~~~

Hannibal flagged Will down as he boarded his Togekiss.

“Mind if I join?” he said. “I swam here on Sharpedo, and he's rather tired.”

For the first time, Will found himself glaring at the doctor. The moment was fleeting but left it's impact—although the only clue was Hannibal's nearly imperceptible facial tic. 

“Did Alana leave already?” Will asked simply. 

“No, I think she is still here. Would you like to wait for her?” 

“No—just...” Will spun on his wheels a moment. “Come on, I'll drop you off.” 

The Togekiss managed their combined weight, and took off, if at a slower pace. 

“Office or home?” Will asked.

“Funny how we keep bandying that word about tonight,” Hannibal said. Will just knew the man was grinning that cat's grin behind him.

“Imagine that.”

“Closed tonight, are we?”

“Just some memories. Which is your job, but not tonight. Really.”

“Not even off the clock?”

“You asked me if I go home.” Will took a deep breath of the night air. “I haven't been home in about fifteen years. Too many Ghosts there.” 

“It seems just about everyone that comes from there has a negative view...”

“It's not—it's not negative, really. It's culture shock. Long, on-going culture shock. Being here, and then away... and then being back again, too. Where do you come from, anyway? You don't sound like you can relate at all.”

“No, I'm afraid I can't. My region was thoroughly modern and on par with Unova, that's why I get along so well here.” 

The smile had turned neutral, Will sensed. “Now _you're_ not answering my questions.”

“Home it is, then.” 

The Togekiss set a path for Driftveil. Hannibal lived on the cusp of the city, a only-marginally-less-gentrified area filled with quaint townhouses, duplexes, and apartments, all surrounded by a scenic forest. Togekiss hovered as Hannibal descended from the Pokemon's back. As he watched Hannibal leave, Will felt an bolt of ice go down his back. Alana. He needed to get her. Togekiss wheeled around smoothly and set back for Black City.

The truth was, Ash's words had reached Will mentally more than he wanted to let on. He was sure Hannibal knew that and was just trying to dig it out of him. But some things were secret. The way Ash's words had massaged old truths and fears out of his brain... he bit his hand. Like he might throw a fit any time soon. They needed to find this fucker. When he pulled his hand out of his mouth, there were angry red bite marks and a little blood just starting to well up. Clumps of yellow and white fur again. He imagined Hypno preening herself and thinking it'd go nicer with an Alakazam head.

The Togekiss sensed his disquiet. 

“Toge?” it muttered. Will shook his head.

“No... no...” But he didn't know if he was trying to reassure the Pokemon or ward something off. 

The miasma was thicker than ever in Black City tonight. Inside the station again, it was cool and a little damp. Will rolled the Togekiss's Pokeball between his hands and looked down every corridor for Alana. He came across her, and—unsurprisingly—Jack in one of the investigation rooms, talking in hushed tones. He didn't have to be Psychic himself to assume it was about him, nor did he feel the need to hide his presence. So he stood there awkwardly, waiting for them to notice.

Alana glanced over. “Not going home?”

“Figured you'd need a ride, unless you were hitching one on your dream machine Cresselia.”

“Cut it out. You need to go get some rest, there's not much left to be done here.”

“Oh, but there is.” Will helped himself to a chair. Jack frowned at him but didn't bother to stop him. Instead, he turned his attention back to Alana. 

“Just in case, though, a few weeks ago I did put a tracker for any unusually powerful Psychic-types. For my own curiosity.”

Will and Alana both startled a little. 

“You mean, like... Mewtwo?” Will asked. 

Jack nodded. “Or the mew itself. A Jirachi, anything. Obviously, it's hard to find when you don't have an ID because no one owns you, so I pulled a few Psychic leaders and set them on a quest.” 

Will thought back to his counterpart, Lucian from Sinnoh. He had only seen the man once, and he was more than capable. Was he out there on a quest, incognito in the broken towers of Hoenn looking for a legend?

“Your own curiosity huh,” Alana said skeptically. “You must have been suspicious right from the beginning.”

“With all the choice specs and scarves hanging around, there could really only be one thing he was looking for.”

“Special attacks equal intelligence,” Will blurted, almost in a daze.

“He doesn't care for brute strength, but he must have realized his flaw was in the defense and speed,” Alana chimed in. “If he's truly looking for perfection... it's in the eye of the beholder. But what about the legendaries?”

“We've accounted for a few, what few there are. But after Ash this evening, I'm a little concerned with Mewtwo. It's suspiciously absent... and these guys managed to find Latias in a forest off the map, so I'm more than a little worried.”

Alana's eyes widened and she gripped a Master ball at her waist. “Do you think he really could? How would he catch something that powerful? Unless...”

Silence drifted over the room. 

“He has something just as powerful himself,” Will said. “Then we might be fucked.”


	9. Ishim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyy look it's back with even more trauma wow this chapter is long

How dare they.

_How dare they._

He slammed his fist against the table in the room where he kept his most prized specimens. They were lined up on a single shelf in trembling Master Balls held together by chains. They shook with rage, and probably a little power. One in particular was calmly attached to his waist. His Lord and Master; his Savior. 

How dare they attribute the work of a God to a mortal? He had never admired Ketchum with his boorishness. At best, he'd thought of him as someone that could be used as a mouthpiece. But when he saw him that night, he realized he was nothing more than that: mortal. Base. A sick, bitter, twisted man resting on former glories. He'd peaked ridiculously early in his childhood, what was left for him now? Even his Pikachu seemed to lag behind him, slow and tired. He had given it new life, even if those idiots had taken it away. It would have been beautiful, but he couldn't worry about that now. It's not like he had failed. 

He exited that trashy news site and clasped his fingers together. He wondered what Ketchum had told them. Did he even know anything himself? It didn't matter, his plan was close to fruition anyway. 

But first, he had a morning appointment to keep. He wondered what the good doctor thought about him, sometimes. Could he see through the troubled facade he put on just to justify their meetings? He hadn't needed therapy since he found his new God, but thought it would be nice to have a cover story in place.

The doctor was very observant, noticing slight changes in his normal tics and even his cleverly designed broaches. He liked him. Shame he had to die, like everyone else. 

“Gar?” 

The elegant white and green Pokemon peeked his head in with an apprehensive look. He knew how master could be when he got into one of his “moods”.

Master abruptly sprang up, throwing a pen that barely missed Gardevoir's head. He shrank back and whined.

“S-sorry.” Master always apologized, even when he beat Gardevoir so bad that he couldn't move for days. A terse, tight apology. It wasn't like the old days when he battled, not at all. The days before Master found the Black Thing. Gardevoir hated and feared the Black Thing, but Master loved it, so he had to help. Even if it meant hurting fellow Pokemon. But he was bound to Master. He would serve and protect Master forever. 

Master pulled Gardevoir into the room as swift and as delicately as a dance partner, and closed the door. Gardevoir hated this room. It was cold and felt ugly, and always made him want to puke. He didn't like the monstrosities lined up on the wall, even if he couldn't see them. He could feel their rage and sorrow permeating freely through his brain, like small Thundershocks. 

He turned to see Master staring at him _like that_ again. His fists clenched at his side, his smile so tight it might break his face in two. Gardevoir didn't like Master like that, either—a ball of mixed emotions that slipped in and out of one another. Gardevoir only knew what some of them meant, the more basic and instinctual. It was the complex ones that frightened him, the ones that built and built over several days that usually led to a frenzy of “work” or abuse.

“Would you like to go in the garden?” Master asked. “I can spare a few minutes, will that be okay?”

 Gardevoir thought about it a moment, then nodded. The small garden outside was the only place still untouched by Master's “work”. It was where they had started organic growing, importing the fertile ash from Lavaridge in Hoenn. The ground was still well-cared for, but primarily by Gardevoir now. Master only participated to make Gardevoir feel better, clenching his teeth at the mundane work. Master didn't care for much anymore that didn't further his goals.

Master smiled and took Gardevoir's hand. They were out of that evil room, at last. He took them out of the small house they shared in Floccesy. Behind it was the backyard they had converted into the garden. There were all sorts of colorful berry trees and bushes—Rawst, Aspear, Cheri, Tamato, and even rare ones like Liechi, Lum, and Haban. Some had dropped their fruits for the season and were waiting to be replanted. Gardevoir busied himself with pruning and replanting, while Master watched with a lazy smile on his face. In this moment, Gardevoir allowed himself to feel good. He hoped the positive vibes would Synchronize with his Master. But when he looked behind him, he could tell Master was already growing more distant, staring into the sun like it was something to be conquered or destroyed.

Gardevoir couldn't reach him at all.

~~~

 

Chimecho didn't particularly like its Poke ball, even though Will was pretty sure it wanted to be captured first. Not that he minded. Hypno was roughly the same way for a long time. No amount of Luxury or Repeat balls could hold her until she was good and ready. 

So Will allowed Chimecho to float around his bed, singing its gentle song. When the wind blew in from the window, its tassel swayed gently.

Chimecho dipped a little low in his face and blinked at him. 

“What is it?” he asked, groggy but not from sleep. He wasn't sleepy at all. At least, his mind wasn't. His body, on the other hand, was so very tired.

“Cho,” the Pokemon said. The tassel fluttered over his face now, tickling his nose. Will wasn't quite as adept as understanding Chimecho as he was the rest of his team, something which made him feel a little terrible. Because he hadn't spent enough time with it. He pulled the tassel away from his face and managed a grin.

“Really?” he asked like one would to a talky Purrloin.

“Chime!” the Pokemon insisted. It nestled down into bed with him and Will felt it pulsing softly. He lay rigid for a few moments, before realization dawned on him. 

“Are... are you using Heal Pulse on me?” 

“Chime.”

Will didn't know what to say, for fear if it coming out in a torrent of tears. He simply nodded on the ball in his throat and pulled Chimecho closer, held it tighter.

~~~

 

For a night now, Hannibal hadn't slept well. He maintained a rigid schedule of patients, sleeping, eating, and other such activities. But when it fell out of balance, he had to admit he felt... awful. Wrecked, even. Bedelia knew he was hiding something from her, but she couldn't dig it out of him. Besides, it was something he couldn't even tell... not until he was sure. And then, even then, he'd only be telling the BAU.

Zoroark stood silently at his side in the office, sensing his master's discontent but also feeding on it, as Dark-types are sometimes want to do.

Hannibal, meanwhile, mulled over something in his head.

_Little green thing._

_Little green freak. Green cap._

In his state, Ketchum could have been talking about anything. The detail wasn't as highly specific as he'd hoped, and yet it stuck in his craw. The familiarity of it was what got him. Was it a person? A Pokemon? He was hardly a researcher—he didn't even have a Pokedex, and it's not like he spent his time bent over strategy books—but he had seen a fair bit. Several Pokemon could be described as “green freaks”, rude as it was. So could people, now that he thought about it. But to put it in the context of this case...

He was dancing around it, he knew. Hannibal wasn't a man that liked to make moves without being absolutely certain—he left that to others. So he needed to get absolutely certain. 

“Zoroark, send young Wally straight in. No other patients today, no calls. Keep Crawford on speed dial.”

“Zorr?”

“This is going to be very interesting...”

Zoroark knew well what it meant when master said “interesting”. He assumed his position at the desk as the exaggerated secretary again, while Hannibal sat in his office, waiting. 

Wally came in at his usual hour. The pocket of his shirt was extravagantly embroidered in whites and purples and blues, Hannibal noted. He looked a little happier than usual. They nodded to each other and Hannibal bade him to take a seat. 

“How are you feeling today, Wally?” 

“Accomplished,” the young man said out right. “Like a big goal was lifted off my shoulders. And you, Dr. Lecter?” 

Hannibal gave him a reserved smile. “Fine, thank you. Wally, how long have you had your Gardevoir?” 

Wally was taken back by the question. Lecter knew how much Gardevoir meant to him, but this seemed a little abrupt. “Since he was a little Ralts, when I caught him back in Petalburg. Why?” 

“Just out of curiosity. May I see Gardevoir?”

“I don't... I don't know,” Wally said. “He doesn't really like strangers.”

“I know so much about him, I don't feel like we're strangers at all.” 

Wally swallowed. “I... I guess, for a minute. But I still don't understand what this is all for.” 

Wally called Gardevoir forth from his case. The Pokemon did a small, elegant twist before realizing where he was. Upon seeing his master and Lecter, he shrank a bit. Hannibal took it in silently, the same ambiguous smile on his face. Gardevoir gazed uncomfortably at Master and assumed that he was to smile and act normal, so he gave a small smile that vanished from his face almost as quickly as it came. 

“Satisfied?” Wally asked.

“He seems a bit nervous,” Hannibal commented. 

“I told you he didn't like strangers.”

“Gardevoir?”

Attention on him again, Gardevoir looked between Wally and Hannibal. Finally, he shrugged his small shoulders.

“Gar...”

“What did he say?”

“He didn't really say anything, I guess. Did you?”

Gardevoir shook his head. “Voir...”

“You love Gardevoir, don't you?”

Gardevoir blushed a little and desperately wished to be back in his home. Wally, however, was stone-faced and growing increasingly agitated.

“I think that's enough, Dr. Lecter.”

“Of course. Call him back, if you wish.”

Wally recalled his Pokemon and sat down, thoroughly incensed. He started picking at the edges of his embroidered patch, and Hannibal chose there to strike next.

“Your new patch,” he said. “It's quite lovely. Is that the goal that was lifted off your shoulders?" 

“Oh? … Oh. Well, something like it.” Wally stopped picking and sat in thought a moment. “I suppose you got something psychological out of that little display.”

“Just the pleasure of seeing a loving Pokemon with its adoring trainer.”

Wally desperately, so desperately wanted to believe that Lecter was being sincere, but deep inside he knew he was _mocking_ him. His eyes proved it. He huffed a disinterested sigh to keep from screaming or crying from rage, and attempted to control the subject again. 

“Have you heard of String Theory?”

Hannibal sat back a little. “String Theory... I believe so, but why?”

Wally idly picked at the wood on his chair arm. “It's a theory of quantum physics... it states that everything in the universe is tied together with one-dimensional particles called strings. Do you think that makes whatever God that created us a puppet master? Are we puppets?”

Hannibal was growing tired of this rudimentary Philosophy 2000 talk, but he let it go on. “I don't think so. I think perhaps it simply means we're all part of the same cosmos and part of each other, in a way. But that doesn't help us relate to one another any better, does it?” 

“You're right, it doesn't... so what's the point.” Wally stopped picking and settled for staring at the floor. “The universe is supposed to be a tapestry of blended colors and species, but what makes humans any better than Pokemon? Why are we in the balls and they're not?”

“Presumably because Pokemon don't have the means that humans have to craft devices—”

“Don't fuck with me, doctor,” Wally said sharply. “If this is the tapestry then it needs to be burned and started all over again from scratch. Cut it from the loom and use the failed ends to make something flawless. Perfect.”

Hannibal noted Wally's clenched fists and steady gaze out the window. “Wally, it's never a good idea to shove human behavior into philosophical ideals. Believe me, I've studied it.” _And tried_ , he wanted to say, but didn't. 

His patient, meanwhile, was riled up. “Why _not_? What are humans but a bunch of philosophical ideas?”

“Wally.”

“Arceus's afterthought, a sneeze, a spit.”

“Wally,” Hannibal said more firmly. “Your session has come to a close for today.”

Wally, huffing and sweating, clutched at his chest and tried to recover himself. “O-okay. I understand.”

As Hannibal saw him out, Wally suddenly bowed deeply in the door way.

“Forgive my behavior today. It was... outlandish.”

“All's forgiven. Good-bye, Wally.”

“Good-bye, Dr. Lecter.”

Lecter closed the door and turned to Zoroark the Secretary. “Still have the phone?”

Zoroark nodded. He handed it to Lecter and waited while he dialed. 

“Crawford? I'm going to need to break physician-patient privilege.”

~~~

 

“You're sure?” Crawford leaned against the desk in his office and stared at Hannibal with a vague mix of skepticism. Alana was there with him. “That's pretty serious without an actual confession to back it up.”

“I've observed him for two weeks,” Hannibal said. “In those two weeks I've noticed particular clues about him... but I think of most interest to you would be his Pokemon, the Gardevoir.”

“Go on.” 

“Ketchum said a little freak thing in a green cap abducted his Pikachu, correct?”

Alana rolled her eyes, not in annoyance but in thought. “Gardevoirs do have a green head. But is that really all?”

“I asked to see his Gardevoir, and when he called it out, it was very nervous around him. Unusually so for a Pokemon that's been tamed as long as he's had it. He raised it from a Ralts and yet it didn't even want to be in the same room with him.” 

“Are you sure _you_ weren't the problem, Lecter?” Jack snarked. Hannibal imagined throttling him right then and there, but let the moment pass. 

Sensing the rising tension, Alana interjected, “Well, he's right. So he might be an abusive trainer, but we don't have any evidence of that either.”

Hannibal cocked his head in her general direction. “Today, he had a little... outburst. He started raving about string theory and the worth of humans and Pokemon. I remember a specific quote, that the tapestry—being our existence, I suppose—needed to be burned and restitched anew." 

“Strings. Embroidery. The Gardevoir. It all seems very neat, just like Ash,” Alana mused.

“Except this one's connection is far more than superficial. He does fit the profile,” Jack said with a sigh, “but we need to do a little research first. And probably get Graham in here.”

Hannibal allowed himself to relax a little, pleased with himself. By the time Will arrived, he felt as smug as his Serperior.

After being briefed on the details, Will sat quietly for a minute in front of a computer screen. The blue-white glow made his the lines of his face harsh, outlined him ghoulishly. He pursed his lips and rubbed a finger under his nose. 

“What's his second Pokemon?” he asked. 

“I don't know, he won't reveal it to me. Refuses outright when I ask, thus I've only asked twice.”

“We need every Pokemon registered to him.”

“Already on it."

Jack slapped down a stack of papers that was much slighter than Will thought it would be. He flicked through the papers quickly and muttered, “He's only had three teams in his life. Where are they now?”

“I'd be afraid to ask,” Hannibal said. “Note their specifics.” 

“Rather poor teams defensively and attack-wise, but they seem to be built around high special defense and attack.”

“A team a serious trainer wouldn't respect.” Alana and Will looked at Jack derisively but he shrugged. “It's true, though. His picks are rather unremarkable, but he stuck with them. Sign of a dedicated trainer?” 

“No Pokemon is truly worthless,” Alana countered. “Hell, look at Magikarp.”

“True enough, but you have to admit... never mind. On his medical records, he seems to have had an illness in his youth. Asthma, perhaps.”

“He still suffers from it, but said he's much improved from his childhood,” Hannibal said. “Taking something weak and making it strong, just like himself.” 

Will stacked the papers together again and set them aside. “And if he's such a dedicated trainer, again, where are these teams?” 

“He's never talked about anything but Gardevoir. Lastly, he is from Hoenn.” Something struck Hannibal's mind, and he found a spot to finally ask the question that had been bugging him forever. “Do you know him, perhaps? Perhaps he challenged you once?”

“I'd only know him if he made it to my spot in the Elite Four,” Will said. “I don't recognize him. If he ever fought me, he was utterly unimpressive.”

 Hannibal nodded, a faint smile on his lips. Before Will could ask what the hell he was so happy about, Jack bumped his shoulder.

“He's still not a criminal yet,” he growled, “but I will admit he's a very likely candidate. If we can get Ketchum to identify the Gardevoir, we  _may_ have enough for a search.”

“And where is Ash?” Will asked.

“He hasn't left Unova yet. We'll track him down.”

~~~

 

Humilau City was a beautiful place, and Ash wished he could stay. His hotel was flanked by sea and sand and sun on one side, and a grassy clearing on one side. He had strolled in the clearing earlier that day, even challenged a few trainers for old time's sake. But back in his room, he packed up his bag and five balls of all assortments.

His shoulders felt very heavy. He still felt a little nauseous, but the doctor had given him something for that. Some berry juice calmed his stomach down a bit. When he looked out his window, he saw the waters ripple and great gust of wind rattled the windows. He saw a flicker of white and red, and some gauzy feathers rained down. His room phone rang, but he was already rushing downstairs and out the door.

A giant Togekiss was perched on the pier just outside the hotel, and he recognized only one of the people that descended. The man—Crawford, wasn't it?--chivalrously helped the woman off the back of the Togekiss, and she recalled it.

“What is it now?” he asked when they got close enough to hear him. The handful of people that had dared to come out and look quickly lost interest and went back inside. 

“We need your help again, Ash,” the lady said. “I'm Alana Bloom, FBI consultant. You remember Jack Crawford.”

“Yes... but what can I do?”

“We need you to do an identification of the so-called freak thing that abducted your Pikachu.” 

Ash uneasily rubbed his arm and tugged on his hat. “I... I don't know if I remember exactly what it looked like, but... I'll try.”

“Thank you, Ash,” Crawford said. “We'll need to head back to Black City.”

“I'll follow you on Dragonite. Come on, it'll be better over here." 

Ash lead them across the piers to the clearing next to his building. He called out his Dragonite, which looked as bruised and battered as he did.

“You can hitch a ride too, if you want...”

Alana and Jack looked to each other; Jack grinned.

“Always wanted to ride a dragon,” he said.

Dragonite handled the three of them easily and swiftly backed to the station in Black City. When they arrived, Will and Hannibal were waiting for them in one of the interrogation rooms. They introduced themselves quickly, and when Ash sat down Jack wasted no time spreading a stack of photographs in front of him. 

“Take your time,” Jack said. “We compiled these based on your description.”

“You got all of this from what I said?” Ash asked, rubbing his chin. “I'll... I don't know...” 

He ran his fingers over several pictures, flicking out the most obvious decoys. Of course it wasn't a Bulbasaur, he'd never seen that thing before so that clearly wasn't right, wasn't a Shroomish... he paused over an image in particular, a small white thing with a green helmet and red horns.

“It... looked like this, except bigger, kind of.”

“Like this?”

Jack slid a picture of an adult Gardevoir across the table. It landed under Ash's hands and he shuddered, bit his lip, and finally looked away.

“Yeah. Yeah, that's it. I can tell.”

“You're absolutely certain?” Hannibal chimed in.

“Completely. It was dark, but I remember that face... the head... right before it snatched my P-Pikachu and ran off.”

Jack cleared the pictures off the table. “Thank you for your help once again, Ash.”

“Where will you go now?” Will asked, suddenly. Jack was about to admonish him, but Ash cut him off.

“Hitching a boat back tonight from Humilau back to the Sevii Islands.” He sighed heavily through his nose. “After that, I don't know what else to do...”

“Maybe go home,” Will suggested.

“Yeah. Home.” Ash's head abruptly snapped up and his eyes were full to bursting with determination. “Just catch this fuck, alright?”


	10. Elohim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A guilty conscious, a legendary nightmare horror; finding exactly what you were looking for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy SHIT guess what I just updated?! YEAH.
> 
> So, despite my sporadic fic output since I stared this, I've had a lot of real life stress problems including terrible back pain that has kept me from sitting up for long periods of type. So as you can imagine, not a whole lot of typing. 
> 
> But I never forgot this sweet little bizarrely functional crossover piece and I've been truly determined to finish it... even if it is over a year later lmao. So please feel free to read it again and I promise this time I'm only ONE chapter away from finishing this sucker off FINALLY (I'm too far gone to rush, y'know?) and it WILL be finished within a few weeks. Thanks for hanging in and if you're new, uh, well, this shit is dark. 
> 
> PS: After the s3 finale (this was started at the end of s1 mind you) let's all have a moment of silence for our long gone beloved fav characters... feels so weird having to write them @__@

 

“Goddamnit.”

 

Jack dropped his fist heavily, like a gavel, against the office desk. He swore again before sitting down and lacing his fingers together. He pressed them against pursed lips to keep from swearing again.

 

He'd let himself get way too excited. They'd had a hunch, and Alana and Will seemed to be confident. He'd let it get to his head. But now their search warrant had been denied for lack of evidence. Oh, how the wheels of justice dragged with rust and disuse.

 

The connection was purely tangential. They'd need something a little harder to even question this guy. And no matter what, every moment they spent hunting around in the dark was more time for him to snatch Pokemon and create more ghastly abominations. It had to end, and it had to end soon.

 

He wasn't beaten yet, though. It was just a roadblock. He has overcome worse, so much worse, with much worse left to come. But he didn't think of that right now. First, they had to find something more solid to link them to the suspect so kindly delivered unto them by Lecter. First step, check the bodies again.

 

“We've been over them with a fine-toothed comb,” Price had told him. “We've pulled microscopic fibers from Choice Bands and Power Anklets, White Herbs—I don't know if there's much more that we can find.”

 

“Even knowing what we're looking for this time, we've cataloged everything we have,” Zeller had said. “Run tests on samples... everything.”

 

Patiently, Jack had steepled his fingers together. “Check. Them. Again.”

 

There had to be _something_ , some little miracle of sloppiness, some eleventh hour laziness.

 

When Jack The Dark Cloud left, Beverly shook her head. “He's feeling the pressure.”

 

“He might combust,” Jimmy quipped. “Back to the ol' drawing board again until we make him happy.”

 

“We're never going to make him happy.”

 

Everyone grimaced at that. The lab Jynx shuffled in a corner and crossed her arms. Beverly shook her head again, this time with vigor.

 

“Let's get to work.”

 

In his office again, Jack still pondered to himself. Long, deep thoughts. Or at least, he tried to focus. He could only admit to himself how hard it was getting these days. But right now, he could just manage to conjure the image of a Ralts—even in his many travels, he'd only seen three in his entire life. Fortunately, those three looked very characteristic of a typical Ralts. But he'd never seen a Gardevoir up close except in pictures. In many of the areas he'd roamed in, they just didn't exist. He'd heard the Pokemon even had a third form—a fourth evolution?—and thought it absolutely absurd. No matter what strangeness Unova had to offer, the Universe still remained fundamentally the same.

 

Ralts in Unova were very rare, but not unheard of. He'd heard of some wandering around White Forest. Probably released by trainers, or maybe even intentionally introduced. They seemed harmless enough. But if there was a Gardevoir anywhere, he was certain that their suspect was the sole owner. Including other foreign residents. But again, none of that mattered if they couldn't even find Gardevoir DNA at the scene.

 

When Jack sat back in his office chair, he felt like he could float from his light-headedness. The pressure was not mounting but swirling around some inevitable event horizon, when his training told him that something had to break. Whether it be his nerves, his life, or this case.

 

A hurried knock at the door, and then before Jack could even ask who it was, the door flung open. An agent greeted him with a face translucent from sweat and anxiety. Jack barely recognized him but wasn't he from a different department? His eyes were wide behind his Coke bottle rim glasses and the front of his shirt soaked and slightly ripped.

 

“J-Jack,” the agent—Steve, his name was Steve—stammered. “We got a situation in one of the interrogation rooms.”

 

Jack flipped up with quickness that belied his age. He was on his way out the door with the agent trailing behind him, hesitant but with urgency. Danger was afoot.

 

“This thing's power—phenomenal. It came in by itself'--”

 

“A Pokemon?”

 

“Yeah. No trainer. We tried to get a translation on it but it was—hysterical. Took it to a room to get it to calm down, then it's power spiked up.”

 

“Psychic?”

 

“Must be.”

 

“What is it, then? Alakazam? Gothitelle?”

 

“I don't even know. We can't control it.”

 

“Well, what's it look like?”

 

“Long, white thing. Green head and arms. Blazing red eyes.”

 

Jack stopped cold in front of the door the agent had led him too. Inside, the tables and chairs were screeching across the ceiling. Paint on the walls were peeling like waterfalls, and then the brick behind them like rivers of blood. In the middle of the chaos was a glowing white figure with an elegant profile but a powerful aura that had knocked everyone out of the room. Jack discretely looked up to the ceiling and thanked Arceus.

 

“Gardevoir,” he said evenly. “Gardevoir, please relax. I know why you're here.”

 

His words seemed to reach the Pokemon and the room came back together. The table and chairs dropped, spilled mugs of coffee righted themselves, the walls put an end to their weeping as if an invisible hand had brushed away their tears. The Gardevoir mentally dragged a seat to its back and sat down in it, dropped its hands in its lap politely but still shivering with nervous energy. Jack physically dragged his own chair over and sat down. He laced his fingers together and stared at the fists a moment, contemplating the next move.

 

“Gardevoir,” he started. “Something is wrong, isn't it?”

 

With some effort, the Gardevoir nodded. “Gar...”

 

“Is it your trainer? Is your trainer doing something bad?”

 

“Gar... devoir, voir.”

 

Jack nodded. “You understand the problems we've been having recently, don't you? With the mutilated Pokemon.”

 

The Gardevoir winced, but nodded in agreement. It started gesturing around the walls lined with pictures of locations and bodies, sheets of paper covered in theories never too crackpot and never too outlandish. It pointed to one in particular, an Alakazam with the body of a Mightyena.

 

“Is this your trainer's handiwork?”

 

“Gar.”

 

“Now, Gardevoir, I have to ask... your trainer has escaped us for so long. Have you helped him?”

 

The Gardevoir hesitated. It knew it would regret this, somehow. If it had to suffer for its Master then it would, but it couldn't let things go on like this. Master needed help and Gardevoir feared he was close, very close, to doing something terrible and irreversible this time.

 

“Voir...”

 

The human, a trainer himself, seemed to understand. But Gardevoir needed to make him understand the gravity of the situation. It raised its arms and spread them, and in the space between a gauzy picture formed. In the haze, his Master as a younger, more idealistic boy. His cough and wheeze were terrible, but Gardevoir—then a Ralts—stood by him through every defeat and victory. Master never got as far as he wished in his journey, but as he gained confidence and skill he got better—physically and emotionally. The new friends did him well, gave him the courage to travel further and further, seek out trainers and new human friends, and eventually Raltz changed too. Their whirlwind adventures took them to the peak of Hoenn, then all over Johto, and they even braved the famed Kanto region.

 

And then, Sinnoh. The picture wavered. Here, everything changed. Here there was light, but evil as well. Forces so strong that Master couldn't resist. He slowly cut himself off from all his old friends until only the most loyal Pokemon remained. The rest of the team were scared off by the frightening change in their Master, who battled more viciously and crowed every win and ate every loss. He hurt himself and others, and Gardevoir saw him cry himself to sleep and mutter strange things. Things that were breaking his mind in two, and Gardevoir desperately tried to convince Master to come home. But one night in a cave proved too much. An insidious Dark cloud seeped in through the walls and dried the river beds and lakes inside, killed scores of Zubat and Golbat where they slept, all forming a path to Master. And when it finally reached them, it roared and spread its monstrous wings and Master embraced its Dark power, ate it whole and came out of the cave no longer Wally but a madman.

 

Jack shivered at the imagery, eyes frozen. “Is that... what I think it is? It can't be...”

 

But the story was far from finished. The next images pulled from Gardevoir's memory were hastily shown as it closed its eyes, unable to bear it. Images of carnage, the limbs and organs of its former team mates scattered. Master took needle to flesh and sewed and created and made, all part of the demon's plan. The old ones weren't good enough and sometimes neither were the new ones. Under the cover of Team Galactic they could work in silence, with Gardevoir as the lure and Master as the hunter. It was simple until the authorities caught on, and then they moved back to Hoenn. A homecoming Gardevoir did not want, but its throat was silent to warn anyone.

 

They caught more and created more. Armies, legions. The ones that lasted were sent to battle. The ones that died were scrap with which to feed themselves and the beast. Just when Gardevoir thought it was getting used to the taste of its fellow creatures, it wanted to die. Attempted to, but was saved by Master with tears in his eyes. _Never give up, I didn't,_ he'd say, and Gardevoir wanted to die all over again.

 

The beast had taken over. Master was gone. Whenever he took Gardevoir's hand, it was like a brand. They were in this together. They caught the powerful legendaries of myth and even they were helpless in the face of the beast. A lump, a mountain of power grew and grew until the image shuddered, faded. Gardevoir slumped in its chair, not fainted but worn out by the trauma of memory.

 

“Oh my god,” Jack said from behind his hand. “My god.”

 

In a trance, he left the room and vaguely remembered sending someone in to get the Gardevoir to a Pokecenter. His mind was on Will. He had to call Will and get him in here soon, make him understand the horror he had just witnessed. He fumbled with his phone a few times and it took Will's insistent Hello? Hello? to finally pull him back.

 

“Will,” he rasped with at throat he didn't realize was so scratchy. “Will. A Giratina.”

 

“A what?”

 

“A Giratina. The boy's got a Giratina.”

 

“A _what_?” Will's incredulity almost shattered the screen. “You can't be... how did you find out?”

  
“His Gardevoir came in and confessed for him. He's... he's stuffing things into the Giratina, giving it their powers and making it a monster. A _monster_ , Will.”

 

On his side, the phone nearly slipped from Will's grasp as he stared at the wall in dazed horror. He'd heard of the trio of time and darkness, the legends from Sinnoh. And he knew enough to suspect they were more than just legends. Every tall tale had a grain of truth. But why? Why this no-name mystery trainer from some backwoods region?

 

“When...”

 

“ _Right now_.”

 

_Did all of this happen_ , was what Will wanted to conclude with, but the phone was already dead on the other end. 

 

“The Giratina is a Pokemon that feeds off of negative energy.”

 

Jack was giving this presentation, as he was much more familiar with the legends of Sinnoh than anyone in the room. They had discussed bringing the champion Cynthia in, but there wasn't much to be done on such short notice. Hannibal was solemn even for... well, even for Hannibal. His creased suite and disheveled hair was the closest Will had ever seen the man come to disarray. Jack's face was cold but Will could sense the unease and fear in his clenched jaw and the constant licking of his lips. 

 

“Similar to the legends of Darkrai.” Another slide. “It is the symbolic representation of pure chaos to Arceus's order.”

 

“Then how is this kid controlling it?” Will blurted. He had to admit he felt a tinge of envy.

 

“From the Gardevoir's tale, it seems maybe he is not.” Hannibal glanced at Jack before continuing. “Perhaps it's time we stop asking what Wally wants and start asking what _it_ wants.”

 

“Indeed,” Jack said. “The man may be nuts but he's still just a pawn--”

 

“And no matter how powerful or godlike Giratina is, it's still a Pokemon,” Will interjected. “Don't count him out just yet. Someone is still pulling the strings.”

 

Will could almost feel Wally's rage coursing through the room in his absence. The arrogance.  _How dare they_ . Who did they think  _they_ were? Whoever controlled who, as far as Wally was concerned he was showing them who was in charge now. And it was no one in that room. The pawn that became ruler in this mad game of chess. 

 

The silence in the air added another snow cloak of discomfort. Jack maneuvered his hands so that they slid up his jacket sleeves, seeking protection from an individual coldness. Hannibal's dry tones pierced the silence when he spoke.

 

“How long until we move out?”

 

“As soon as we get a team assembled.”

 

“Not too many people on the force carry high special defense,” Will murmured and just like that he had cemented himself into the posse. As ever. Jack opened his mouth to protest, but he flashed back to the scene in Nacrene from a few weeks ago. Will Graham needed no invitation.

 

“I didn't hear that, and I don't see you,” he said pointedly. “And neither did you.” He jabbed a finger at Hannibal. 

 

“Can I please just mention how wrong this all feels,” Will said, standing up and beginning to pace. “It's all really neat, isn't it? Like the last time, and the time before that, and so on. No one really wants to admit it's a set up, right?” 

 

Jack almost visibly bristled but he let the comment pass. After all, he wasn't wrong. That was the question that hung in the air tonight. But he couldn't think on it right now. They had much bigger matters to worry about, and he was being called outside for further briefing. The Gardevoir had recovered enough to assist the team on finding Wally's location. Deadline thirty minutes tops.

 

Alone with his psychiatrist, Will slumped down in his seat.

 

“Now you go where I cannot follow.” Hannibal offered out his hand; in his palm, a glasses lens cleaning cloth. Will looked at it strangely but took it. He wiped off a week's worth of grime and noticed the room seemed a lot brighter than when he came in.

 

“There's something else, isn't there?”

 

“From what I know of Gardevoirs, they're very protective. Why, even for _this_ , would it betray its owner now?” 

 

“It seems this is the only way it has left to protect Wally. Perhaps to make up for its failure in the cave.” 

 

Hannibal snorted dryly and settled back in his chair. “Just when we need a determined ten year old the most; instead, we have a group of old, jaded men with no light in their eyes.” 

 

Will sat quietly and contemplated his team.

~~~

 

For once, Jack and Will were roughly on the same wavelength. Nothing about this felt right. Say the Gardevoir was sincere, but that was easily faked. As a Psychic-type, it could be expected to be good at emotional manipulation. Sincere about  _what_ ? Could they ever trust it? The mental gymnastics threatened to send Jack into an early sleep; the possibilities. He didn't think of himself as an ignorant man. Despite his preference for brawn, he was more philosophical than forceful. But now he truly understood how Will Graham must feel sometimes, with the constant thinking and overthinking, mental voices restraining your feet and arms every time you tried to make a move. 

 

He was glad he wasn't driving. 

 

He scoped the team in this car one more time. A group of six, and six more in the other, and a fleet behind them. Some closer to his age and some just young enough to have their optimism wiped out. It had suicide mission written all over it. 

 

They were losing time. The briefing, scanning the team for appropriateness, it all ate up chunks of valuable minutes until they were suitably ready for whatever was waiting for them.

 

In Opelucid City. The kid had been right under their noses the whole time. Who hides a monster in a suburban townhouse with a garden? 

 

The citizens of Opelucid were awakened by the menacing rumble of squad cars speeding down their paved streets. If one looked close enough, one could see a nervous, strange white Pokemon sitting amongst ashen-faced police officers and their federal counterparts.

 

The townhouse had an old quaintness to it, and a garden of berry trees around the sides just as Gardevoir had said. It was unique in that aspect, and one more: it was secluded, with only two distant neighbors – unusual for a town where the houses and mansions were stacked one on top of the other. 

 

A black and navy cloak surrounded the area with guns and shields and Pokeballs varying colors drawn at the ready. Will felt outlandish with nothing but a bulletproof vest, as if that would protect any of his other soft, tender parts. But he had allowed himself nothing else, hadn't even looked at a gun since the faithful encounter with Pikachu.

 

The shared unease and what if? lit a single spark between him and Jack, made them glance at each other but neither found any comfort in the other's gaze. 

 

They had decided to try and call Wally out, like a hostage victim Will had thought with some dark humor. Wasn't it true? Jack had the bullhorn as if he needed it. He managed to sound collected and authoritative, and Will found that impressive and crazy.

 

“Wallace—Wally. We have you surrounded. Come out slowly, facing forward, with your hands up.”

 

A deafening after the final click of static echoed in the air. Will's heart rate shot up and the pits of his shirt were instantly soaked.

 

Suddenly, there was a clamor from the inside of one of the police vehicles. The Gardevoir rushed to Jack and grabbed his hands. It shook its head and babbled hysterically, pointed at the house.

 

The house was emitting a low rumble. Pebbles and loose bits of pavement clanged and sang on the ground. With dull surprise, Will and Jack watched the second story windows tremble.

 

“A set-up,” Jack said resignedly.

 

“No...” Will muttered. “He was waiting for us.”

 

A light spilled out of them and onto the side walk as they fractured. The white wall grew until it was enveloping them in its wailing, raging walls, the distortion of gravity sending everything up, up, up.

 


End file.
